With or Without You
by BadWolfBabe
Summary: After the death of long-time (ex) boyfriend Cedric Diggory, Michelle spent the summer lying in bed, consumed by persistent depression. Even though she doesn't want to, she is forced to begin moving on thanks to the start of their seventh year. Luckily, (technical) boyfriend George Weasley is around to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart. Companion to AHLYF and FSR.


**A/N: Welcome! This is companion story to my other two George/Michelle fics, "And He's Loved You Forever" and "For Selfish Reasons." This story in particular tackles their seventh year at Hogwarts. I had put off writing this story forever, because I wasn't sure how to accurately capture depression and moving on. But I think I have a decent plot coming together, so we'll see where this goes.**

**Thanks to GenkiPlus for the push to write/post this! Even if she's the only one who reads this, at least I did it! :)  
**

**Enjoy! Leave a note with what you think! xoxo - BadWolfBabe**

* * *

The Champions were due back any minute. Kelly, Kim, Fred, George, and I tried to pass the time with idle conversation, but I couldn't help checking the transformed Quidditch pitch in front of me every two seconds. We were all anxious to see who would emerge with the trophy: Cedric or Harry.

"Either way, it's a Hogwarts victory," Kelly said. "Doesn't matter to me who wins as long as we wrap this up soon. My butt fell asleep ages ago."

Fred winked and nudged her arm. "I can help you with that."

Kelly shot him a patronizing look, which Fred naturally took as encouragement.

Thankfully, finally, the band struck up a victory song. The crowd stood and screamed in celebration. My friends and I leapt to our feet, climbing on top of our seats to see who'd won.

Kim said loudly, her voice barely audible above the crowd, "Looks like… Harry's holding the cup! He won!"

The twins cheered loudly. The crowd began to push us towards the aisles, so we all swam with the stream of students moving onto the pitch. I quickly lost track of my friends—hands pushing and shoving in every direction. Through the cluster of bodies, I saw Cedric close by. He was laughing animatedly, his face dirty with sweat and courage. After stepping on twenty people's feet, I was at the front of Cedric's welcome wagon.

"Congratulations!" I said cheerfully.

Cedric's uniform was torn and he looked like he had fallen down half a dozen times. When he heard my voice, his face immediately lit up.

Cedric yanked me into an embrace, and fiercely pressed his lips against mine. My stomach swooped, and I kissed him back just as hard. I wasn't thinking about George or Cho, how they would react or what they would think: in that moment, it was only us, and it was perfect.

"You're still sleeping?" Kelly jolted me awake. As my eyes focused, I noticed she was standing over me, purple sunglasses perched on the top of her blonde head. "We're going to the beach, remember? Get up, you."

I sat up slowly, still adjusting to reality. Kelly opened the shades in my room, filling it with bright beams of sunlight. I pressed my palms against my face, hoping to see the lingering images flicker beneath my eyelids.

Kelly didn't entertain any of my lethargy. She walked over to my dresser and promptly opened the top drawer. "Which suit do you want? It's almost 90 out, so you might want to bring a shirt so you don't get burned."

My heart ached so badly I felt like I couldn't breathe. Waking up from a sleep that perfect and pleasant felt like someone threw a boulder at my chest. As the blank slate feeling—the blessed forgetfulness—that came from waking up evaporated, I quickly remembered everything: the real end to the tournament, Cedric's lifeless eyes, and the blur of days I'd spent laying in bed this summer.

"Where's Kim?" I asked, my voice small.

Kelly picked out a navy bikini and held it in her hands. "Saving our spot. Does this one still fit you?"

The kiss felt so real. I touched my lips, and felt how dry they were. I hadn't actually kissed anyone in almost six weeks. My lips—normally active with words and laughter—had barely been used. They didn't feel real anymore—without Cedric, I didn't feel real anymore.

Kelly replaced the blue bikini with a red polka dot one. She tossed it to me, the fabric landing haphazardly on my bed. "This one's newer; it might fit you better. Plus I think the red will bring some color to your skin. Why don't you change so we can head over?"

I wanted to tell her no. I didn't want to go to the beach. I wanted to curl up in my blankets and slip back into that dream. Sleeping was much easier, much more conducive, than going to the beach.

Instead, I pushed myself out of bed, standing on my two shaky feet. I started to change, slowly, slipping the cool fabric over my now wiry frame, when I heard Kelly rifle through the stack of letters on my dresser.

"Have you replied to any of these?" she asked.

George had been writing me all summer, but I never knew what to say back, so I didn't. His exploits with Fred couldn't properly be replied with, "I'm glad you're having fun. I'd really like to die."

"Not yet," I lied.

Kelly plucked the unopened envelope from the top of the stack and stuck it underneath her arm. "I'll send your reply back with mine. Fred's been nagging me about when we're coming back to London. Are you ready? Do you want some breakfast?"

I knew the correct answer to that question was yes, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. I didn't feel hungry as often as I used to, and didn't want to make myself eat when I wasn't hungry—along with a laundry list of other things I didn't want to make myself do, which often included waking up and getting out of bed. Luckily Kelly and Kim were incredibly understanding and kind, and gave me a small push each day. Even if it meant going down to the living room to watch TV all day, at least I was out of my room.

Sadness made my body feel heavy. Even though my mind was urging for the contrary, I said, "Let's go."

* * *

Settling down at the beach—or into any activity Kelly or Kim had planned for the day—often took some time. Kim gave me a granola bar and pretended not to watch me eat while Kelly laid down my towel like I was incapable of doing so myself. But sometimes, honestly, I felt incapable. My friends were genuinely just trying to help, and I felt a mixture of gratitude and frustration. They spent every day giving me simple commands and tasks so I would stay busy and not think about Cedric being dead.

Because when I did, I remembered there was no point to being alive. I felt like I was stuck on pause while the rest of the world continued on without me. I wanted so desperately to go back in time to a point where Cedric was still with me that I wasn't ready to move on and do things like study for my seventh year or write to George. I knew I would be back on the train to Hogwarts in less than three weeks, but I couldn't imagine school without Cedric. Mourning was a strange sadness that didn't want to leave.

Kelly handed me the letter from George to read while she tore open an envelope from Fred. Kim was lying on her back, holding a book above her with one arm, her curly red hair spraying beneath her head like a pillow.

Kelly folded open the parchment and began to read a lengthy letter from our friend. Curious, I asked, "What's Fred got to say?"

"The usual nonsense," she answered, trying not to sound excited. I had a feeling she liked Fred, but she would never admit to it. "Their mom found more of their stuff and destroyed it. And they're demanding we stay with them when we come back."

"All of us?" Kim asked, lowering her book.

"Maybe." Kelly turned to our redheaded friend. "Would you wanna go?"

Kim grimaced. She wasn't much for social interaction. "I don't know about staying with his family."

"It'd be fun!" Kelly urged.

Kim elected to ignore this and went back to reading her book. Kelly faced me, "She's such a spoilsport."

I shrugged. Kelly tried not to look exasperated, but didn't quite succeed at hiding her feelings. Embarrassed, I challenged myself to open George's letter. I felt a tinge of guilt for never replying, but being his girlfriend was suddenly extremely overwhelming. I felt like a widow more than a lover, and I didn't know how to tell him that without admitting I cheated on him. Saying nothing was easier.

_Michie!_

_I think every owl you send to me must die mid-flight because I haven't gotten a reply from you yet! Clearly that's the only explanation as to why you haven't been writing me back._

_Anyway, since it's August I imagine you and the girls will be coming back soon? You'll have to come stay with us for a bit. We're not at The Burrow, so I'd have to meet you in Diagon Alley and take you back that way. It sounds super secretive… because it is super secretive! We're staying with a friend of the family and he doesn't want his address getting stolen. Or in your case, lost in the Atlantic._

_Lots going on, but I'd rather tell you in person. I miss you loads and love you loads more._

_xoxo - Georgie_

"Same thing?" Kelly asked, plucking the letter from my hands as soon as I was finished reading it. "I think it'd be fun to go, don't you? I miss their nonsense."

My chest tightened at the thought of seeing George again. I wanted to dig into the sand and bury myself.

"Yeah," I said instead, unconvincingly. Kelly noticed my tone, but chose to ignore it.

"I'll write them back and ask for details," she said firmly. "What are you going to write to George?" When I didn't reply right away, she persisted, "Just say you're looking forward to seeing him soon."

"I don't know," I panicked. The thought of him even putting his arm around my shoulder made me want to scream. "I am, but I'm not."

"It's ok," Kelly said, attempting to soothe the oncoming meltdown. "Just think about going. It will be good to get out of here."

"And do something other than summer reading," Kim said, lowering her book, "Which, by the way, I still need to do."

"Me too, actually," I admitted, thinking of the mountains of reading and essays that still needed my attention. My friends looked at me like I'd said I'd flunked out.

"Who are you?" Kim gasped.

"Stop!" I smiled, despite myself. "It'll get done."

"We can do it when we're sick of the twins," Kelly agreed.

That plan actually sounded manageable. I could push myself to be social, and when it got to be too much, I could catch up on reading. That way, I could be George's girlfriend without getting too intimate.

After another hour of baking in the sun, the three of us packed up and headed back to my house. My parents worked long hours so the house was empty most of the day, which is how we liked it. Kim broke out a bottle of beer and gave one to me. Beer helped calm my nerves… sometimes. Sometimes I remembered parties at Hufflepuff house, and that last night when Cedric and I drunkenly made love. Today was one of those days. I sat at my kitchen table and focused on Kelly writing her letter to Fred and tried not to be sad. Every scratch of her pen against parchment reminded me of school, which inevitably reminded me of him.

"I'm done!" Kelly announced like she was a proud child. I smirked, just to show I was listening.

"I need a smoke," Kim said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket. "Wanna come outside with me?"

Both of my friends looked to me for a response. Frankly, I didn't feel like going outside again. It was too hot.

"No, thanks," I said.

Kelly stood. "We'll be right back, ok?"

I nodded. My friends left, the sounds of their footsteps heavy on the wood floor.

As soon as they were out of earshot, I carefully lifted Kelly's letter to Fred and began to read.

_Fred,_

_You guys are IDIOTS! If you weren't so loud, you wouldn't get caught! No need to thank me for that wisdom… but a slice of your profits would be nice. We'll negotiate once we land in London._

_Speaking of! We'll be home next week. I think. I have to check the plane tickets. Yes, even though we passed apparition we still have to fly home. Parents, and such. Plus Kim's mom is convinced if we do apparate that far we're bound to leave something behind. Like a body part. Whatever._

_So with all that nonsense out of the way… let's plan to meet August 16__th__ or so? We can confirm actual meeting dates once we get closer. I think it will only be me and Michelle coming to stay. Kim's too afraid of social interaction unless there's beer around. You know her._

_Speaking of, can you do me a huge, mega favor? I need you to talk to George about Michelle. I don't want him to expect her to, well, be his girlfriend when we come by. She's still not doing well. Better than last month, but they are baby steps. She's had a huge loss, which I know you know, and that's not easily fixed. I know this might come as a shock to you, but you guys can get pretty overwhelming sometimes. Ask him to back off a little and let her come to him. They're still in a relationship, but it won't be the same. _

_I miss your stupid face and can't wait to see you soon._

_-Kelly_

I heard Kim slam my front door as soon as I finished the letter. I quickly dropped it back in its place, my face red. I felt horrible that Kelly had to instruct my boyfriend on how to act around me. But even I had to admit it was better for him to have a warning than for me to have a loud, public breakdown in Diagon Alley after he tries to kiss me.

"Almost back home!" Kelly said cheerfully, folding up her letter.

Almost was my savior. Almost back home, but enough time to prepare myself. I was almost feeling better, but not at all.

* * *

Kelly and I agreed to meet the twins on August 16th, a Monday. We were instructed to "shove all our shit into a suitcase and wait in Diagon Alley."

As soon as our flight landed in London, my skin crawled and I felt perpetually nauseous. At least in America, I was secluded from the idea of moving on. Back in the wizarding world, change was jumping out at me from all ends. Although I was slightly excited about seeing the twins, and possibly Hermione and Harry, part of me wanted to crawl back into bed, my safe zone.

Even though London had a reputation for being rainy, it was glaringly hot in Diagon Alley. Kelly and I stood off to the side of our meeting place—somewhere quiet past the bookstore—and tried not to melt. She was fanning herself with a copy of the Daily Prophet she picked up. The paper had earned itself a lot of skeptical looks from our trio, but it was our only source of British wizarding news in the US. We managed to find nuggets of interesting information woven in with the propaganda against Dumbledore and Harry, but we understood we had to take everything with a grain of salt.

Just as I was about to lie down on the ground and moan about being so hot, my friend caught the attention of two bobbing redheads in the crowd.

Kelly screamed when she saw them. "What did you do to your hair?!"

The twins' hair was significantly shorter. Even I had to admit it looked loads better. It also made them look their age.

Fred squeezed Kelly tightly. "Oh, you know, going for the mature look and all."

"Long hair is so last year," George agreed. When he approached me, my heart almost stopped. I expected him to try to hug me, but instead, he only smiled. I was both grateful for and disappointed by the lack of physical contact.

"So why'd you have us meet you all the way out here?" Kelly asked.

"You'll see," Fred said ominously. "We have something to show you before we get going."

"Oh, god, what?"

"It's nothing bad," George reassured us. The boys grabbed our bags and we started walking towards the less crowded part of Diagon Alley.

"Nothing good either," Fred replied. The twins exchanged knowing glances and began to cackle.

We walked for a good five minutes before the twins stopped in front of a tall, empty storefront. The paint was pastel yellow and orange, and was chipping around the door frame and windows. The windows were dark and dusty, and there were wanted posters for Sirius Black still plastered across the front.

"Well?" Fred couldn't contain himself. "What do you think?"

"You're not serious, are you?" Kelly gaped. "You bought this dump?"

The wheels in my brain started turning. "Wait," I said abruptly, "You _bought_ some place?"

"Come on, it's not all bad," George walked up to the window. He pressed his palm against the window, leaving his print. "We'll clean it up and have it looking great in no time!"

"This looks like a haunted house," Kelly sighed.

"Au contraire my love, it's prime real estate," Fred clarified.

I stared in awe at the building in front of me. The twins had actually done it. They had spent years talking about starting a joke shop that seeing this bare entity in front of me was mind-blowing. An ambition like that was something you expected people to talk about for forever, and not actually do.

"We used the money from the tournament to make a down payment," Fred explained, when neither Kelly nor I offered praise at their accomplishment.

"Use the rest to make it look less creepy," Kelly said. Fred rolled his eyes.

George turned to me and asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"This is amazing," I said breathlessly. "You guys really did it."

Kelly joked, "I don't know if I'd say amazing, but…"

"Hush!" Fred shushed her.

George ignored the others. He smiled sweetly. Despite everything that had happened, everything that I had felt this summer, I surprised myself by missing his smile.

"Thanks," he said genuinely.

After a few more moments of admiring the twins' new project—and a few more quips from Kelly—we decided to head home. Fred instructed that we all hold onto each other, and in a second, we were standing in front of a row of townhouses on Grimmauld Place. The rush of apparition made my stomach swirl, and I squeezed George's hand to keep myself from vomiting. George, however, took this as a sign of adoration, and squeezed back.

"A house like this fits all of you?" Kelly asked skeptically.

"And it's not only us," Fred said. "Wait 'til you girls see your room."

Kelly groaned. I had a fleeting sense of anxiety at how small—and not private—the house would be, but reassured myself that I could always go back to Kim if it was too much.

Fred whipped out his wand and did a series of moves. Suddenly, the ground shook, numbers 11 and 13 moved to opposite sides. Another townhome—this one looking significantly more run-down than its neighbors—emerged from seemingly nowhere. Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"Home sweet home!" George said. Kelly and I exchanged concerned looks.

"Where the hell are we, exactly?" she asked, clearly not amused at whatever potential prank the twins were playing.

"Headquarters," Fred said. He opened the front door and gestured for us to head inside, "for the Order of the Phoenix."


End file.
